Party for Two
by Chapin CSI
Summary: Tony Stark/Steve Rogers slash. Summary: Steve's been hanging around Tony's workshop for months and it's been driving Tony nuts. Tony's solution? Get Steve a girlfriend. NEW: Steve isn't the only one with an intimacy problem. Can this derail a relationship that hasn't even begun yet?
1. Chapter 1

Party for Two

Tony/Steve slash

* * *

Tony Stark watched as his Personal Assistant checked something on her clipboard.

"Is that all, Miss Potts?" He smiled. Normally, it was she who asked that question, adding the Mr. Stark to give it a hint of formality.

He was mocking her… and she knew it.

She gave him a half-smile.

"Yes, Mr. Stark," she said, putting her pen down, "That's all."

"Good," Tony said, "'Cause I need you to do something for me."

"What is it?"

"It's just a list," he said, motioning her to his workbench. There was a single piece of paper on it, and he handed it to her.

Pepper read it. Twice. Finally, she looked up.

"This is quite a party."

"You think so?" He walked around her so he could take a peek at the list. "A light buffet," he read, "Non-alcoholic beverages… a list of twenty-two guests… That's a 'small gathering'."

"Exactly," Pepper replied. "It's not your usual kind of party. And the guests..."

"Some agents from SHIELD," Tony said, still looking at the note, "We can't leave them out, can we? Fifteen girls -"

"And not a single model among them," Pepper cut in. "No models, no actresses…" She looked up. "Why is that?"

"What, you don't approve? A few teachers, some college girls, a couple of nurses from Stark Industries that I'm flying here for the night…" He waved at the list. "Those are nice, wholesome, salt-of-the-earth girls."

"My point, precisely." She narrowed her eyes. "What is it exactly that you're planning to do?"

He shrugged. "I told you, it's just a party. An unusual one," he conceded. But he could tell Pepper wasn't placated. She'd crossed her arms and now was eyeing him suspiciously; "Oh, come on; don't look at me like I'm some kind of pervert!"

Pepper rolled her eyes.

"The injured tone won't work, Tony. This is not a party like any other and you know it. Either you tell me what you're up to or…" she let the word trail off.

Tony hesitated for a couple of seconds, then gave up.

"Ok, I'm gonna tell you. I need your help, anyway." He paused for a moment as if to gather his thoughts, then, "It's about Steve."

Pepper was surprised. "Steve Rogers?"

"Yeah, him," Tony said testily, as if Rogers was the only one Steve they knew. Reluctantly, he added, "He's been hanging around here."

"He lives here."

"I know he lives here," Tony said impatiently; "Don't play dumb with me. My point is, he hangs around all day! That can't be healthy."

"You hang around here all day, too," she replied; "Is that unhealthy too?" But she was smiling by now. "So, Steve hangs around. Why is that a problem?"

"Well, for starters, he hangs around in my workshop!_"_

"Oh." She nodded slowly. "I see."

"No," Tony started shaking his head. "You don't see. You just think I'm getting bored of playing host to the guys."

"Well…" Pepper merely shrugged.

"That's not it," Tony said, then added, for good measure, "It's not! I like being the Avengers' landlord." He paused. "It gives me the upper hand."

She smiled. That, she did believe. "All right. Then what is it?"

Tony didn't immediately reply. Instead, he walked around his workbench and sat on his swivel chair. He leant back on it, then threw an appreciative glance around.

"See this, Potts?" he asked. "It's a nice place; it's comforting, it's quiet -"

"It's messy -"

He pretended not to hear. "Bottom line, this isn't just a workshop," he said; "It's a refuge from the outside world. It's… a sanctuary." He paused, and noticed that Pepper was suitably impressed, (and rightly so; he'd never been so open). "Now, I don't mind the guys taking over the living room or the kitchen, Potts; or the gym. God knows I wasn't wild about sharing the sauna, but I did." This was the hardest thing actually, since sharing the room with guys who were buffer than him was not his definition of fun. "But now they're starting to invade my workshop…"

Pepper smiled indulgently. "Invade?"

"Ok, maybe 'invade' isn't the right word. And it's not all of them; it's just Steve. He's been dropping by every day, Potts! Look!" He waved at a couch on the opposite end. There were several sets of encyclopedia books neatly piled on it.

Pepper looked at them, then back at Tony.

"Aren't those your childhood books…?" Tony nodded. "He's reading those?"

"Yeah. And you know, for a strong, silent type of guy, he sure talks a lot while he's reading. And the stupid questions he asks -" He stopped when he saw the look on Pepper's face. She was trying hard to keep a straight face and failing. "Hey, it's not funny! The guy's becoming a nuisance, Potts! I can't work with him in the room."

Pepper bit her lip. With an effort, she said, very reasonably, "Tony, it's Steve Rogers; how bad can it be?"

"How bad? He comes early in the morning and leaves in the evening. He brings his own lunch -"

"Oh, no, he doesn't!"

"Oh, yes, he does," Tony said irritably. "Sandwiches. In a creaky brown bag. Usually it's ham on white with lots of mayonnaise –the real thing, too."

"The kind you wish you could eat."

"Exactly," Tony said off-handedly. Then he narrowed his eyes. "You're not taking it seriously."

"I'm trying to," Pepper protested. "But… It's hard to see Steve Rogers as a nuisance. He's a nice guy; he obviously admires you -"

"He needs a distractor," Tony said firmly. "And I'm gonna give him one."

Something clicked in her mind. She looked at the list, then at Tony.

"You're giving this party…. to get Steve a girlfriend?"

"Finally," Tony said. "Yes, Miss Potts; that's exactly what I intend to." He nodded at the list. "There are blondes and brunettes and a couple of redheads in that list. I figured he'd go for quiet rather than flashy, which is why I didn't include any models. I don't think he'd go for a skinny type of girl, anyway. And the students -" He paused when he saw the doubt in Pepper's eyes. "What, you don't think it'll work?"

"Does Steve know about this?"

"Of course not! Come on, Potts, you know the guy; he'd say no."

"Then maybe you shouldn't do it. Tony, this is _Steve Rogers_. He's -"

"Shy," Tony cut in. "I know."

"I'm not talking about that." She hesitated, "Do you know how long it took him to understand blacks were no longer segregated? And the -"

"Oh, that's a low blow, Potts. Sure, it's been a slow process, but the guy's heart is in the right place!"

"I'm not saying he's a bad man, Tony. On the contrary; he was glad when they told him. But that's my point; he needs things spelled out to him. This…" she held up the list. "This may be more than he's prepared for. I mean, he may not even want a girlfriend!"

"He doesn't know what he wants," Tony said dismissively; "That's why I'm giving the party. Once he sees what he's been missing…"

"What if he doesn't like those girls? What are you going to do then?"

Tony shrugged. "I'll find some others."

Pepper shook her head. "Mr. Sensitive," she muttered under her breath.

"That's what they call me," Tony replied cheekily. "Come on, Potts! I'm only doing this to help Steve! The guy's lonely."

Pepper eyed him in silence for a moment.

"And you're doing it out of the goodness of your heart?"

Tony raised his eyebrows.

"What, you don't believe I can try and do something nice for a coworker?"

"Well, I don't see you trying to help Hawkeye -"

"He doesn't need my help. And he doesn't come here every day either."

Pepper stared at Tony a while longer. It looked like there was something she wanted to say but didn't quite dare. Finally, she nodded.

"All right. I'll call the caterers."

"Thanks, Potts. You'll make sure they have a good time, right?"

"What, you're not attending your own party?"

Tony snorted. "A lame party like this one? No thanks. Besides, it's not my party; it's Steve's." He leant back in his chair, looking pleased with himself.

Unfortunately, JARVIS piped in just then.

_"Captain Rogers is on his way here, sir."_

"Oh, crap." Tony automatically sat up. He gave Pepper a beseeching look. "Please, make it happen."

She nodded briskly. "Yes, sir. Right away, sir." She even raised her hand in a mock salute. But she wasn't really mocking him; not really. "I'll do my best." She turned to the door.

"And get him some new clothes," Tony called out. "Something not in plaid, for God's sake."

* * *

….tbc


	2. Chapter 2

Party for two

Part 2

* * *

A few days later, Tony was once again in his workshop, sitting on the swivel chair, casually browsing old catalogs.

JARVIS ventured a question.

_"Shall we continue our work on the Mark XIII, sir?"_

"Later, JARVIS." He leant back on his chair and did something he rarely did: he put his feet on the table. It was a sloppy thing to do, and he was definitely NOT a sloppy person. He just felt like it today -and why not? It was his workshop, after all. "I told you I was taking a break."

_"A four-hour break is highly unusual, Mr. Stark."_

"Four hours?" Tony frowned. "It's been really that long?"

_"Yes, sir. Don't forget you took a nap."_

"Oh. Yeah." Right after Steve left, Tony had marched to the couch and sat on it as if he were reclaming posession of it, and then... he fell asleep. "You shouldn't have let me," he said gruffly now.

_"You obviously needed the rest, sir."_

"Yeah, but it's not right, falling asleep in the middle of the day."

_"It was inevitable, sir; you were tired, and the spot you chose to sit on was still warm from its contact with Captain Roger's body."_

Tony raised an eyebrow.

"What does that have to do with -"

_"__Captain Rogers' body temperature is higher than most humans,"_ JARVIS said conversationally; _ "The warmth lulled you into a deep sleep." _

Tony considered this. "Really? His body temperature...?" Not that he cared about Steve's body temperature. No way. Sure, as the Avengers' self-proclaimed landlord, he ought to know these things. But he didn't care.

Still, now that JARVIS had brought Steve into the conversation, it seemed appropriate to make an observation.

"It feels kinda strange, not having Captain Rogers around, huh."

_"Indeed."_

"I like it!"

_"Perhaps we could we continue the revisions on the Mark XIII armor, then."_

"Later, JARVIS; I want to enjoy this." He leant back on his chair and swiveled slowly around, glancing here and there, mentally taking notes of things he ought to do; things he should have done long ago but kept postponing because he just couldn't concentrate...

Inevitably, his eyes fell on the spot where Steve normally sat. He pictured the young man closing a book and putting it aside, and then picking a bulging brown bag and rummaging inside…

"What kind of sandwiches did he have today?" He asked morosely; "Sausage?"

_"Salami on white," _JARVIS said promptly. _"With a single leaf of lettuce."_

"And mustard," Tony said morosely. "I could smell it from here."

But the smells were gone, along with creaky wrappers and soda cans. Steve had left earlier than usual that day, ushered by Pepper, who insisted on taking him shopping for a new suit. Poor Steve had resisted, but he was too much of a gentleman to really put up a fight. Not that he would have had the chance; not with Pepper Potts in a determined mood. She might not approve of Tony's plans, but she was committed to help. Just as they were leaving, she winked at Tony behind Steve's back. 'I'll make it happen', the look on her face said. Tony gave her a thumbs-up sign.

Things had been quiet since then.

Tony closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Play me a little music, will ya?" he said languidly; "Something soothing." He closed his eyes. "Something from AC/DC."

_"I wouldn't consider AC/DC an appropriate choice under the present circumstances."_

"Just play it, JARVIS."

_"Very well, sir. But I must warn you; Captain Rogers is on his way here."_

"Ha. I don't think so."

_"He's taking up the stairs as we speak."_

Tony opened one eye.

"JARVIS? Are you trying to play a practical joke on me?"

_"I haven't been programmed for that, Mr. Stark."_

"Yeah, well, then check on your circuits. There's no reason for Steve to come up here. He's got a party to go to." He glanced at the glass door as he spoke, not because he expected Steve to appear, but because he knew Steve would NOT be there.

Imagine his surprise when he saw Steve Rogers march up to the door and confidently punch his personal code.

"Oh, crap," Tony muttered, and he automatically put his feet down. He always straightened up when Steve came into the workshop; he didn't know why he did it, he just did. This time however, he made a conscious effort not to sit up. It was his workshop, for crying out loud; he'd slouch if he wanted to.

"Tony?"

Tony reluctantly looked up, just long enough to notice that Steve looked dashing in blue, (great choice, Potts!), and that whoever had knotted that tie had done a poor job of it: it was crooked to the left. Then he studiously looked away.

"The party's downstairs, Rogers."

"I know. I was wondering why you weren't there."

"Meh. I've been to too many parties in my life." He shifted in his seat, as if to make himself more comfortable. "Now I crave quiet in my old age."

Steve scoffed softly. "Are you telling me your party days are over?"

"No," Tony said patiently; "I'm just saying this isn't my party." He reluctantly glanced back at Steve. The young man was looking earnestly at him, as if waiting for something. "I'm not going, Steve."

"All right," Steve said, and he started tugging at his tie.

Tony frowned.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm taking this off," Steve said. "I'm not going to the party either."

Tony sat up in alarm. "But it's your party. You've got to go."

Steve scoffed again. "_My _party?"

"Uh, yeah." Trapped, Tony forced a smile. "It was supposed to be a surprise, but yes, the party's in your honor."

Steve stopped pulling at his tie. He looked puzzled. "What's the occasion?"

Tony shrugged. "No occasion. It's just a party." But Steve was still looking inquiringly at him, waiting for an explanation. _Of course. _In Steve's world you didn't party for the sake of it; you had to have a reason. Unfortunately, he couldn't think of a single one; his mind had suddenly gone blank. "I just thought..." he started. "I mean, we all thought -"

Damn! He couldn't lie; not with Steve looking attentively at him.

Stalling, he started straightening things up on his workbench.

"Actually, it was Pepper who came up with the idea," he said suddenly. "After all, you've been doing a great job around here, Steve. Your friends think you're swell, the guys from SHIELD respect you-" He was frantically fishing about for nice things to say. "Oh, and the public loves you, too."

Steve smiled in an 'aw, shucks' manner.

"Thanks. It doesn't seem fair, though, throwing a party just for me. The public loves the others too."

Tony looked up. "You know what? You're right. The others deserve their own party too. But tonight's your night; Pepper planned everything with you in mind," he said shamelessly; "Music, food, drinks…." He lowered his voice. "Girls."

"Girls?" Steve said it as if he'd never heard that word before.

"Yeah. There's about a dozen downstairs, all of them hoping to meet the great Captain America." And what better reason to go to a party, right? Tony smiled, pleased with himself. Even Steve's lack of reaction didn't faze him. He was an uptight guy, after all. He probably needed to be talked into these things. "Yep. They're crazy about that guy. But don't worry," he added, "They'll be happy to meet Steve Rogers too." But his words didn't seem to reassure Steve. In fact, the guy looked downright uncomfortable.

For a brief moment, Tony wondered if there was a point in Pepper's warnings. Maybe Steve wasn't ready for this -

But if not now, then when?

"Hey, Steve? You don't have a problem with this, do you? Meeting girls, I mean." He smiled, "From what my dad told me, you were quite the ladies' man back in the day."

"Me?" Steve looked sincerely puzzled.

"Yeah. He told me you stole his girlfriend -" But even as he spoke, Tony knew he'd made a mistake. Steve had rarely mentioned the past these past months -_his_ past, that is; the events that affected him as a person, not as a historical figure. He'd discussed events, yes, but never the man he and Tony knew, nor the friends he'd lost. Tony had respected his silence... Until now.

Steve held Tony's gaze for a moment, and then dropped it.

Tony cursed himself. Now, what? In his mind, he heard Pepper's warnings again. "...He may not be ready... He may not even want a girlfriend..."

And now, as he studied Steve, other considerations started to surface. Steve's behavior since he woke up from his deep freeze was hardly that of a player. And from what he'd read of the guy, he'd hardly had time to do anything except fight.

With a sinking feeling, Tony started wondering if his father's story was true after all. Not that he'd lied, (no way would Howard Stark make up a story where he didn't come up as the winner); but what if he misunderstood the events? What if his girl simply wanted to get away...? Who, in his right mind, would try to get a girl away from Captain America...?

So, if this was true, and Steve Rogers was not a ladies' man...

Well, that wasn't a huge problem. If Steve needed help to approach girls, then Tony would give it to him; hell, he had an arsenal of pointers to give away. And this was Captain-fucking-America, not some loser with buck teeth, (and Tony self-consciously licked his capped upper front teeth as this thought crossed his mind).

The problem, as Tony saw it, was how to broach the subject. Frankly, talking about the birds and the bees to a grown man was not his idea of friendship -not that he really believed Steve needed it. The guy had to know all about the facts of life, right?

Right?

Suddenly, Tony wasn't sure.

Shit, shit.

He would have gladly pulled back right then and there. But he'd come this far already... And he needed his workshop to himself again.

And yeah, Steve needed him.

"Ok, look;" he said. "I know it's hard, what you've gone through

–No, wait," he added. "That was presumptuous of me. I don't know what waking up in a different century feels like. But I know one thing: You can't hide forever."

Steve frowned. "I'm not hiding."

Tony gave him a skeptical look.

"I go out on missions," Steve said, defensively; "I attend meetings -"

"-and then you come back and spend the rest of the time in the tower."

Steve looked down.

"And that's ok," Tony said soothingly. "God knows I've felt that way about the world a couple of times myself. But we can't turn our backs on it forever, Steve. I mean, it's the only world we've got." He paused, letting those words sink. "Trust me; there's no use wishing things were different."

Steve shook his head.

"I don't wish things were different, Tony."

"Well, good."

"I like being part of the team." He looked up, met Tony's gaze defiantly. "I thought I'd made that clear."

"You did. But there's more to life than being a hero. You should try and enjoy your life more."

Steve frowned.

"I like my life."

"No, you don't. All you do is read old books."

"I like reading old books."

"Yeah, but wouldn't you like to do other things? Meet other people? You could have a girlfriend." He paused. "You could have a wife."

"You don't have a wife."

"Yeah, well, I'm not cut out for it. And this is about you, not me." He studied Steve for a moment. "You had a life before the war broke out. Didn't you ever dream of having a wife and kids, and a little house with white fences?"

Steve shook his head.

"I was too sick to dream, actually."

"Well, you're not sick now," Tony said testily. "My point is, you have a chance to start over. You should go out now and meet people. Nice people, I mean, not just criminals."

Steve looked down again.

Tony walked up to Steve and after a moment's hesitation, put a hand on the young man's shoulder.

"I don't know if you left someone behind," he said quietly. "But if you did... You wouldn't be betraying her memory by getting on with your life. If she loved you, she'd want you to be happy." He waited for some reaction from Steve but got none. The young man kept his gaze on the floor.

Encouraged by the silence, Tony continued. "Those girls downstairs? They're nice, and old-fashioned; they have careers, yes, but they also want a husband and kids."

Steve seemed skeptical. "How do you know?"

"How do I know what?"

"How do you know what they want?"

"Oh, that. They answered a survey."

Steve frowned. "You asked them questions?" A pause. "What kind of questions?"

Tony hesitated. Too late, he realized he shouldn't have revealed that last part just yet.

"Nothing serious," he said cautiously. "Just questions about themselves. You know; favorite colors… favorite foods…" He hesitated for a second, then, "Favorite Avenger…"

Steve was appalled. He even took a step back.

"You asked them questions about me?"

"Well, not just about you," Tony said truthfully; "And for the record, it was JARVIS doing the questioning, not me. But the point is, they gave the right answers." He tilted his head in the door's direction. "They're here because they _really_ like Captain America."

"Tony -"

"But don't worry; like I said before, Steve Rogers is welcome too," Tony said humorously.

But Steve wasn't worried; he was indignant.

"You mean you want me to -" He didn't finish. "You expect me to -" He stopped again. Finally, as if in defeat, "I can't believe you did this."

Tony was taken aback. He didn't really expect Steve to be overcome with gratitude, but he didn't expect this reaction either. Steve's jaw was twitching; that only happened when he was seriously pissed.

"Now, Steve -"

"What am I supposed to do now, Tony? Get a shoe and try it on each one of them?"

"I don't know," Tony said slowly; "Is shoe size that important to you?"

Steve looked up sharply.

"This isn't funny!"

"The hell it isn't! You're comparing yourself with Prince Charming!" Tony was amused by the whole thing, but not Steve; he was clenching his jaw. "Oh, come on!" Tony reached for Steve again. "Relax, will you? First of all, you're taking this the wrong way. You don't have to marry those girls; they don't expect you to. Not tonight, anyway," he quipped. Then, because Steve was bound to take him literally, "I'm kidding! Here's the deal: Those girls came to have a good time. And by good time, I mean, talking, dancing… having a couple of drinks…"

"Tony, I just don't -"

"You don't -what? Drink? Talk?" Tony tilted his head. "Let me guess: you don't dance. Is that it?" But he didn't wait for an answer. "Well, you can talk, can't you? In fact," and he lowered his voice as if he were about to impart an important secret. "There more you let them talk, the better they'll like you."

But those words only made things worse. Steve was shaking his head and muttering under his breath.

"I can't believe -this is -it's just not -" He was having a hard time coming up with one coherent phrase. Finally, "You shouldn't have done this. Not behind my back!"

"Would you have let me do it if I'd told you the entire story?"

"No!"

"I rest my case," Tony said placidly. "Oh, come on, Steve. It's not so bad!"

"Not so bad? It's demeaning!" Steve said hotly; "It's no big deal to you -of course it's not! The way you live -" he waved a hand at Tony. He didn't finish what he was going to say, but he didn't have to; the look in his eyes was eloquent enough -at least to Tony, who'd seen it countless times before. There was disapproval, in that look. Despise, too.

"Oh, right," Tony said testily; "The saintly Steve Rogers has spoken. To him, nothing compares to life in the 1940s. People were better back then, so moral and ethical. There were no problems at all -unless you know where to look, and he isn't going to do that. He'd rather look back through rosy lenses. Meanwhile, he's missing on a chance to meet new people and make a difference in their lives." To his satisfaction, Steve looked stricken. _Good. Now, for the kill_. Tony took a step closer to Steve. "You know, you may not like this world, but you're stuck in it, Steve. It would be nice if you started giving it a chance."

Steve looked sincerely chagrined.

"I'm willing to give it a chance," he said. "If I gave the wrong impression -"

"It's ok," Tony said magnanimously; "It must be hard getting used to it."

Steve took a deep breath. "It is," he admitted wearily.

"Well, we're here to help you, Steve. Now about those girls -" Tony raised a hand just as Steve opened his mouth. "Hear me out: those are nice, hard-working women; they deserve our respect."

"Of course," Steve said quickly.

"Good." He clapped Steve's back, and started walking him to the door. "Have fun, then. Good friendships start like this, believe it or not," he said conversationally; "Romances, too."

"I suppose," Steve said tentatively. "It's just..." He stopped abruptly; "To tell you the truth, I've never felt comfortable at parties." He reached for his tie again. "I'd rather stay here and -"

"No!"

Tony didn't mean to say it like that, but it was too late. Steve looked questioningly at him.

"I mean, it's your party," Tony said, lamely; "They're waiting for you."

But Steve wasn't a fool. Something had clicked in his mind.

"You don't want me here."

"I didn't say that." Well, that was the truth; he didn't _say_ he didn't want Steve there.

Steve stared at him for a moment, then slowly took a step back.

"You didn't want me around, Tony? You could have just told me. You didn't have to throw a party. You didn't have to lie."

_This is it, _Tony thought. _I'm gonna take one on the chin._

But Steve hit him. He simpy started walking away.

"Oh, come on -Steve. Wait." He caught up with Steve by the door. "Look. I didn't say I didn't want you here. But you gotta admit you've been spending way too much time in the workshop. And that's ok," he added quickly, "You're welcome to spend as much time as you want, but -" He stopped. Steve didn't seem to be listening; he wasn't even looking at Tony; he was looking at the couch.

"You kept telling me I'd be more comfortable in my room," he said thoughtfully. "I thought you were just being nice -"

"I was," Tony said with a glare. "Hell, I don't lend my books to just anyone." But Steve was still looking at the couch -probably remembering the first time he broached the idea of coming here to study, and how Tony kept pointing out how much more comfortable he'd be in his own quarters, studying under JARVIS' supervision. But Steve had insisted; 'I'll be more comfortable talking to a human, Tony' he'd said…

And now Tony felt guilty. Steve was trying, in his own way, to get to know the people he lived with. He'd just chosen the wrong man.

Steve spoke, without looking at Tony.

"You want me to leave the tower."

"Yeah. Well, not permanently," Tony amended. "This is your home, Steve. But you could get out now and then." Then, probably encouraged by Steve's level response, "Go to the party. Those are good girls, _and_ they're pretty. There are some blonds in there; some brunettes, a couple of redheads…" No ethnic girls though; he didn't think Steve was prepared for diversity.

Steve looked up then. He was smiling -a small, bitter smile that Tony had never seen. It turned the Steve he knew into a stranger.

Taken aback, Tony tried to apologize. "Steve..." But what could he say? "I was just trying to help."

"Because you're my friend," Steve said, the words heavy with... skepticism?

"I am," Tony said, hurt that Steve would question his feelings. "I thought you were lonely. I just wanted to help you."

Steve scoffed.

"You don't even know what I want."

Tony looked up.

"You're right; I don't. But you can tell me."

Steve smiled as if at a private joke. "Can I?"

"Sure. You can tell me anything." Maybe he had misjudged Steve; maybe he liked diversity...? If so, he could easily arrange it. "Whatever you want, Steve."

Steve smiled -the bitter smile again.

"I prefer men."

Tony didn't understand at first. He frowned. "What…?"

"You heard me."

Tony's eyes widened. It was as if Steve had sprouted antlers or a third eye; this was not Steve; it couldn't be... But he was.

For once, words failed Tony. Worse, in his initial confusion, he'd dropped the hand that had been lying so casually on Steve's shoulder.

And to Steve, actions obviously spoke louder than words.

"And now you can't even bear to touch me." He said it as if he'd known all along what Tony's reaction was going to be. "It looks like the great Tony Stark isn't as broad-minded as he thought."

That wasn't true, but Tony couldn't manage a response.

Meanwhile, Steve seemed to be enjoying Tony's confusion.

He smiled. "You said I could tell you anything."

"You can," Tony said hoarsely. "You just took me by surprise." _Jesus, what an understatement._

Steve nodded slowly.

"You mean we are still friends, then?"

"Yes."

"Good." Steve's eyes gleamed. "'Cause I'd really like you to get me a boyfriend."

Tony faltered, almost as if Steve had hit him. He held Steve's gaze for a full couple of seconds... And then he stumbled out of the room.

* * *

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

PART 3

* * *

TBC

Out of the room and with nowhere to go, or so it seemed to him once he stepped into the hallway. Right or left, it didn't seem to make a difference until the sounds of a nearby elevator caught his attention and drew him in. He strode to it, punched a couple of buttons, and then got in fast, as if afraid that the doors wouldn't stay open long enough.

Once the doors were shut he leant on the wall and took a big gulp of air. He was exhausted all of a sudden; as breathless as if he'd run miles without taking a break. He had no explanation for it until he realized he'd been holding his breath all along.

He shook his head. _What the hell's wrong with you?_

Eventually, he got a hold of himself. _There, there_, he thought, patting his chest reassuringly. _We've got to get going_.

It was then that he realized the elevator hadn't moved yet. He touched the panel.

"JARVIS? We're not moving."

"I thought perhaps you'd reconsider your decision to go to the conference room," JARVIS said apologetically; "Since there are no meetings scheduled at the moment."

"Conference room?" Tony eyed the panel. Funny, he didn't remember punching that button. Not that he was going to admit that. "It's ok; I need some peace and quiet, right now." Pause. "Unless you have a better suggestion?"

"You could return to the workshop, sir. Captain Rogers has just left."

Tony faltered. Steve. In his mind, he saw Steve's face as he saw it last. He was smiling –that awful, bitter smile- but his eyes were sad. Disappointed. _Damn it, Steve. Why did you do that?_

"Perhaps we could proceed with the repairs on the Mark IX," JARVIS added hopefully.

Tony shook his head.

"I don't think so, JARVIS. Right now, I just want to -" _To forget I just busted a friendship?_

The thought made him pause... for a couple of seconds. "To the conference room, JARVIS;" he said firmly. "We've got some paperwork to catch up with, don't we?"

….

The conference room was a good choice, Tony noted with satisfaction. He could keep tabs on everything and everyone; he had tasty snacks on hand and, since he was alone, he could play his favorite music without getting dirty glances from his superhero friends.

And I have the best coffee all to myself, he thought, glancing at the gurgling coffee machine on the counter.

Meanwhile, he worked. Sitting at the conference table, surrounded by screens, he was simultaneously watching the news, catching on with his mail, checking his stock, and, for fun, bidding on some interesting stuff on E-bay.

Others would have been exhausted, but not him; he thrived on the activity. When he finally took a break it was only because letting the coffee sit for too long would have spoiled the taste.

"Keep looking out for that silver buckle, JARVIS," he said as he poured himself a cup. "I want it."

He walked to the walled-in balcony and took a look at the nearby buildings. Lights twinkled from thousands of windows. So many schmucks out there, working late. Or maybe starting their shifts. _Wonder what it feels like, working for others? _ Then he took a sip of his coffee and all idle thoughts were forgotten. The scent alone was enough to draw him in. And the taste... Languidly, he held the liquid in his mouth for a moment, savoring it before letting it slid down his throat.

He sighed. "This is the good life, JARVIS."

"Two mouthfuls of it," JARVIS said ironically.

Tony looked at the tiny cup in his hand. "Well, you know I'm a man of frugal tastes."

He glanced out the window again, only this time it was his own reflection he caught. First, the cup in his hand and then, inevitably, his face, though for an unsettling moment he didn't immediately recognize it.

_What the fuck?_ He looked terrible. He looked like he hadn't had a good sleep in days –which he hadn't, come to think of it. Then there was the haunted look in his eyes; it made him look… scared? No, not scared. No way. He looked…

_…Confused? _

Yeah, that's it. Confused. Well, shit, he was confused, all right. Bewildered, befuddled –who wouldn't, after hearing all that bullshit? 'Cause it was bullshit.

_Yeah_, he thought, with sudden indignation. Utter bullshit. Steve was just trying to shock him!

And the worst part was that he'd fallen for it.

"Idiot."

"Sir?"

Tony smiled at the tone of injury in JARVIS' voice. "Not you, JARVIS. Me." He glanced over his shoulder. "I handled things wrong back there, didn't I?"

"Could you be more specific, sir?"

Tony narrowed his eyes. "Are you suggesting I made more than one mistake today?"

"If you are referring to your reaction to Captain Rogers's revelations, then I agree you mishandled the situation, sir. It's not like you to flee from a fight."

Tony frowned. "It wasn't a fight."

"A discussion, then."

Tony didn't argue. JARVIS had a point and he knew it. It wasn't like him to flee. Not from a fight nor from a discussion, no matter how stupid it might be.

"Sir, it seems to me you're being too hard on yourself," JARVIS said kindly; "You are not an idiot. You couldn't have foreseen what Captain Rogers was going to say -"

"Yeah," Tony said, glad that JARVIS was on his side on this. "How was I to know? Did you have any inkling? Did Pepper? No!"

"However," JARVIS said ominously, "You could have been more sensitive."

"Why? It's not like he was telling the truth."

"Wasn't he?"

"He was just fucking with me, JARVIS. Playing a joke," he added, because the use of "fucking" was just too disturbing right now.

"I find that hard to believe, sir. Captain Rogers is a level-headed man, and -"

"- a humorless son-of-a-bitch?" Tony finished. "Now, JARVIS, you're being too hard on him."

"_I _am being too hard on him?"

"Trust me; Steve was lying. I mean, men don't talk like that, in the first place."

"But he wouldn't lie about this."

"Why, because he's Captain America? He's not a god, JARVIS. He's human; he's flawed like everybody else. There's no way he's –" he waved a hand in the air. "What he said."

"Homosexual." JARVIS said helpfully. "Why? Because he's Captain America?" And damn it if he didn't sound exactly like Tony.

"Smart ass," Tony muttered under his breath. Without stopping to wonder why he was even arguing the point, he went on, "Being Captain America has nothing to do with it. He's a guy; guys keep this sort of thing to themselves. They don't go around babbling about it."

"Perhaps they would if they had a friend."

Tony winced. Good old JARVIS; straight to the point, as always.

Straight to the heart.

"Sir?"

Tony shook his head. What was there to say? He knew Steve would never lie –not about this, not about anything. The only reason he'd been trying to convince himself otherwise was because then his own actions wouldn't be so vile. He'd turned his back on Steve -_that_ was the truth.

He'd acted like Steve was some kind of leper.

"Well, it's his own damn fault," he said hoarsely.

"Whose fault?"

"Steve's. He should know I'm not cut out to be a friend."

"I thought you were his friend," JARVIS said, puzzled. "You organized the party, after all."

Tony snorted.

"Yeah. The party." Biggest mistake of his life. Someone should have warned him against it. Pepper. Why didn't she say something? Actually, she did but was kind of evasive about it.

Tony narrowed his eyes. _Oh, Miss Potts, if I find out you knew about Steve –_

"Sir, may I ask what do you intend to do?"

Tony paused while he struggled with his conscience.

It was very brief struggle.

"I'm gonna bid on that buckle," he said casually. "Did you find it yet?"

"But what about Captain Rogers?"

"Aw, JARVIS; what do you want me to do, pretend I give a fuck about his problems?"

"Sir, your behavior is highly unusual. It's not like you to evade a situation."

"I'm not evading anything. I'm just…" He didn't finish. JARVIS was right; he was evading a situation -he was hiding out, for God's sake.

He frowned. _What's wrong with you? You're Tony-fucking-Stark; you face problems head-on; always have! Yeah!_

And if this were a business situation, he would have solved it already. A threat from Justin Hammer? No problem; a memo was enough to handle that little weasel. Aliens invading New York? Shit, he would have killed those suckers long ago.

Unfortunately, this was a personal problem, and those, he didn't face; he just buried them –deep, deep inside till they disappeared. Out of sight, out of mind, like they say.

He snorted. _Oh, who am I kidding?_ Problems never disappeared; they festered. And some returned when you least expected them and bit you in the ass -which was ok, when it was his ass alone. But when they hurt other people…

He looked up again. That look on his face? Now he knew what it meant.

Remorse.

He'd hurt Steve.

_Oh, shit, shit, I didn't mean to. He's got to know that._

"Sir…?"

JARVIS tactfully left it at that. But the unsaid words remained: What are you going to do?

Tony didn't immediately reply. He was thinking of the past; of things buried long ago...

"Sir."

"Don't rush me, JARVIS; I'm doing some serious excavation."

"I don't understand."

Tony wasn't about to explain. Still looking at himself, he spoke. "What about Steve; is he still at the party?"

"Yes, sir."

"Poor guy." He pictured Steve standing in some corner, watching people dance and have a good time while he virtuously stood aside. "Having lots of fun, I bet," he added snidely.

"It looks like he is, sir. He's with a group of young women right now."

"Oh?" Tony paused. He tried picturing Steve 'partying' with a group of young women the way Tony himself did… and failed. "When you say he's with a group of women, you mean…"

"They're sitting down, talking."

"Oh."

"They seem quite taken with the Captain," JARVIS added unnecessarily. "Do you wish to listen to their conversation?"

"Hell, no," Tony said. "We're not perverts, JARVIS."

"Not anymore, it seems."

"Oh, shut up."

….

Back in the elevator, Tony punched a button

JARVIS took note. "Shouldn't you go upstairs first, sir? You're not dressed appropriately."

Tony frowned. He had jeans and a black wife-beater on.

"What's wrong with my clothes? I own this building; I can wear whatever I want!" Pause. "Besides, I'm not going to the party. I just wanna talk to Steve."

Sounds associated with parties came to him, the moment the elevator doors opened: music, the tinkle of crystal on polished surfaces, the laughter of guests, the prattle of waiters rushing to and fro… He felt nostalgic, all of a sudden.

"We haven't been to many parties lately, have we JARVIS?"

"No, sir."

"I miss those old times."

"Should I tell Miss Potts to organize a gathering, sir?"

"Let's see how this turns out first. You know I may not survive the night; I'm about to face Captain America without a suit."

He glanced around; there were doors all along the hallway, but it was the one it was the one at the very end that he walked to.

"Sitting area, right?"

"Yes sir."

The door opened into what looked like a storeroom, with boxes piled high against the walls. The sounds were louder now and no wonder: the ballroom was right on the other side. Tony had originally planned to use this room as an intimate getaway to take his dates to, but with the Avengers coming and going, he'd decided it wasn't safe enough for romance.

Without bothering with lights, Tony crossed the room to the opposite end and pushed at what felt like a panel on the wall. It was actually a door and it slid open.

There was a heavy curtain there and beyond it, the ballroom itself.

Tony parted the curtains and took a peek.

The party was going in full swing -Swing being the key word, as a dozen-or-so couples danced energetically to a Glenn Miller song. They were damn good too.

_Way to go, Potts_. Pepper did a great job, picking the right Agents from SHIELD; those guys really had the right moves. The girls were good too, with the kudos going to JARVIS, who'd done the screening.

_And to me, for coming up with the idea._

Not that anyone would be thanking him, Tony thought morosely; not Pepper, not Steve…

And speaking of Steve, he was sitting just a few feet away, surrounded by a bunch of girls like JARVIS had said. And yeah, the girls seemed quite taken with him –not unexpectedly, since they were already half-in-love with Captain America.

The real surprise was Steve, who looked totally comfortable in his role of stud. He was smiling at the girls, nodding at them and generally acting like he was exactly where he wanted to be.

Which was exactly what Tony had been hoping for, right? Hell, he had a reputation to live up to when it came to parties, after all. And he truly wanted Steve to have some friends.

But did Steve have to look so damn happy? Did he have to act like these were the most interesting, intelligent creatures he'd ever met? Granted, these could really be the most interesting, intelligent creatures he'd ever met, but still…

_Maybe he's just being polite_. Yeah, that's it. Steve was being nice. Sure.

Inevitably though, another thought came to him: What if Steve really did like girls and was only fucking with Tony's mind after all?

Tony winced. "Son of a bitch."

To his surprise, Steve looked up as if he'd heard the words spoken out loud. The young man glanced curiously around, then straight at the curtains. Suddenly, he flushed a deep red. He'd seen Tony.

"Hey," Tony said, (even though Steve couldn't hear him). He was about to motion him to come but Steve dropped his gaze.

"Oh, come on," Tony muttered. He waited, sure that Steve would look up again, which he did, only he didn't react to Tony's head-shake, (even though they'd used that move countless times before; it meant 'drop everything; we need to talk, pronto'). Steve didn't even acknowledge the message; he just paused for a couple of seconds, then looked back at the girls and laughed at something one of them said.

"Are you kidding me?" Tony muttered testily; "Come on, Steve; don't make me go in there."

Behind him, JARVIS spoke. "Perhaps you should issue an official summons to Captain Rogers, sir."

"And break my own rule about not assembling the Avengers unless strictly necessary? I can't do that."

"Then perhaps you should go "in there" as you said."

Tony snorted. "No way. Those girls would kill me if I took their precious Captain away."

"They wouldn't kill you," JARVIS said reasonably; "But their reaction could be a tad unpleasant. They already dislike you as it is."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Since when?"

"Since the beginning, sir. According to the survey, fans of Captain Rogers tend to feel strongly against you. But perhaps we should discuss this later," JARVIS added, probably noticing Tony's growing indignation. "Shall I draw Captain Rogers' attention to you sir? I can send an electric discharge to the couch -"

"Don't!" Tony cut in. "Don't do anything, ok? I'll wait." He crossed his arms. "I'll just stare at him. Let's see how long he can stand it."

'How long' was exactly two minutes. Steve tried, but it was hard for him to ignore Tony, even standing half-hidden by curtains. Finally, he rose among apologies and promises to come back, then marched to the curtained area, avoiding Tony's eye as he approached, and only hissing, "This better be quick!" before going inside.

Tony paused long enough to notice the girls following Steve with their eyes until he disappeared from view, then glancing at each other speculatively, (sizing the enemy, no doubt).

Tony dropped the curtain and went inside too.

Steve was examining the boxes, though it was too dark for him to read the labels.

Tony called out, "Lights!" and every light in the room came on.

Steve didn't turn. "Can't you use a switch, like normal people?"

"You think I'm normal?"

It was a deliberate taunt, but Steve ignored it. He touched a box, then tentatively lifted a corner, as if to verify its weight. He glanced around, then at Tony.

"Food rations." he said. "Are you getting ready for a war?"

"Always," Tony said quietly. He waited for a comment, but got none. Steve went on studying the boxes, calmly going from one pile to the next. "Am I being paranoid?" He asked the question mostly to get a reaction, not because he cared for Steve's opinion. He could have explained that he needed to be in control of any situation; that between colleagues and employees there were hundreds depending on him for survival, and it wasn't like he was expecting to make a profit out of it. And then, just in case that's exactly what Steve was thinking, (which only confirmed the fear that deep down he did care about Steve's opinion of him), "I'm not gonna sell any of this, Steve."

"Didn't think you would," Steve muttered.

Tony waited for more but got nothing.

"You know," he said. "It's funny, how we make wrong assumptions all the time. Tonight, for instance; I didn't think you'd enjoy the party and it turns out that you did." He paused in case Steve wanted to comment. Steve didn't. "I'm glad you took my advice, by the way. Letting girls do the talking always works."

Steve shot back, "It's called common courtesy Tony."

Tony nodded. "Ok," he said calmly. "I stand corrected. Speaking of courtesy, could you look at me while we talk?"

Steve reluctantly looked up. Not at Tony exactly, but in his direction.

"What do you want?"

Tony winced. Steve was pissed. Oh, hell, yeah. All signs were there: the short sentences, the obvious exasperation, and the clenched teeth.

And yet there was something... forced about Steve's anger. He wouldn't look at Tony in the eye, for instance. That wasn't like Steve, who faced his foes no matter how big or small. Plus, he was still flushing.

He was embarrassed.

_Aw, Steve. You wish you didn't say all those things, don't you._

Tony felt something close to tenderness then.

"Listen, Steve -"

But Steve spoke at the same time.

"Took you by surprise, didn't I?" He smiled -that awful, bitter smile again. "Shattered every preconceived notion you ever had about heroes." Tony shook his head. "No?" The word was heavy with sarcasm. "Are you saying you don't mind that I'm queer, Tony?"

Tony muttered something under his breath.

Steve frowned. "What did you say?"

"I hate that word," Tony said quietly.

"It's only a word, Tony. One in a hundred. You may have heard some of them before. Or even said them out loud." He straightened up. "What about Pansy, for instance? Sissy. Fag -"

Tony winced with every word. Coming from Steve, they were like bullets -bang, bang…

"Or Invert," Steve said, and he stopped here. He smiled as if he'd just remembered a joke. "That's the one they used in the army," he said conversationally. "It made everything sound so clinical; like they were talking about a disease. Which is what it was, in their minds; a disease to be cured. Or beaten out of you," he added somberly, almost to himself. "To them, marriage was the ultimate solution. 'Find yourself a good girl,' the Chaplain said to me once." He looked up and met Tony's gaze. "Do you think a girl could cure me, Stark? One of them perhaps?" And he tilted his head in the party's direction.

"Give me some credit," Tony said testily.

Steve stared at him as if he were gauging his sincerity. His expression softened for a moment –a very brief one. And then the bitterness was back.

"Are you going to tell the others?"

Tony frowned. The idea hadn't crossed his mind. Frankly, he was too self-centered to be thinking of others right now.

"They don't have to know," he said cautiously.

"But what if they knew?" He paused. "What if I told them?"

Tony considered the question for a moment. "Nothing would change. They'd still think of you as a friend. "

"But not you."

"Oh, come on," Tony protested. "Look: I know how it looked, me walking out the way I did. But you gotta understand; I didn't expect any of this. I mean, I thought I knew you; and then all of a sudden you start saying things that -"

"So, I should have kept it quiet then?"

"I didn't say that."

"But that's what you mean," Steve retorted. "You wish I'd never said anything. Go on; be honest."

Right. What was Tony supposed to say, "Hell, of course I wish you'd kept your trap shut"? He didn't.

He didn't have to, anyway. Steve already knew.

He nodded almost imperceptibly. He smiled. "Well, at least you won't be throwing any more parties for me. That's a relief." Then he grew serious. "You used those girls, Stark. They didn't deserve that."

Tony shook his head. "I was only trying to help you."

"Because you thought I was lonely. Oh, no, wait; you did it because I was getting in your way."

Tony didn't bother to argue. Hey, when they throw the truth in your face, you take it.

"You know what the funny part is, Tony? You were right; I'm lonely. Always have been." He snorted. "Pathetic, isn't it?"

"No." Tony looked up. "It's not. We all get lonely sometimes." It was the truth, and he hoped Steve would believe it.

Steve held his gaze for a second, then dropped it. "I'd better go back there." He took a step, but Tony was in the way and he didn't move.

"You can't go just yet, Steve. I still haven't said what I wanted to say."

Steve looked up reluctantly.

"I know," he said wearily; "You want me to stay out of the workshop."

Tony shook his head. "No, that's not it."

"You want me to keep quiet about this? That's fine by me."

"It's not that either." Tony took a deep breath -shit, this wasn't going to be easy- and then, with all the sincerity that he could muster, (both in words and in looks), "First, I want to say I'm sorry. I am. Truly."

And damn it if Steve didn't look surprised. He even did a double-take, as if he didn't believe this was Tony Stark speaking –which was kind of irritating, since he wasn't such a bad guy after all. But Tony wasn't about to argue; instead, he held Steve's gaze and fervently hoped that JARVIS had a good view of his own face, because he wanted to see what a sincerely repentant Tony Stark looked like, in case he needed that expression again.

"I mean it," Tony added for good measure. "I also want you to know that I'm... Well...I'm kind of proud of you. It takes guts to say –" he made a vague motion with his hand. Shit, why couldn't he say the words? But Steve didn't notice; he was too busy giving Tony that searching look again. And whatever he saw won him over. He nodded almost imperceptibly.

He believed Tony all right.

And that was step one: Establish credibility. _Check,_ Tony thought smugly. Now, step two:

Actually, he didn't know what step two was. But he knew that establishing some kind of rapport was important when you were wooing someone into doing business with you, and so he leant on the boxes and did his best to look casual.

"So, how long have you known?"

Steve almost leant on the closest pile of boxes too, then didn't. He was not about to relax and treat this like any other conversation. It didn't even look like wanted to have this conversation, in the first place.

But he did answer Tony's question. Reluctantly.

"All my life."

"It must have been hell."

Steve didn't reply. Looking uncomfortable, he nodded at the door. "Maybe I should go back."

"What, you were having such a good time you can't wait to go in there? And what happened to common courtesy? I'm not finished yet."

Steve's jaw did a little grinding, but that was the extent of his protest. He stayed.

"Thanks," Tony said. Now he had Steve's attention. Good. Or not so good, depending on who you asked. Those things he was about to say, well, they were too personal -so personal, he thought of them only rarely. Just thinking of them hurt; and talking about them… well...

And it wasn't the pain he was afraid of; it was the emptiness that would follow, once he spoke -once his secrets were out in the open.

But what the heck. He owed it to Steve.

Step Three. Or was it four? "Here's the thing," he started, "Normally, I don't give a fuck what people think of me."

Steve snorted. "Fine. I get the message."

"No, you don't. What I'm trying to say is I care what you think of me. And I don't want you to go around thinking I'm a fucking homophobe."

Steve flushed.

"I'm not," Tony said. "Ok?"

"Ok," Steve said curtly.

Tony hesitated. It occurred to him that he could leave it at that. Steve was a good guy; he'd forgive him... eventually. He'd certainly stay away from the workshop from now on, and wasn't that what Tony had wanted all along?

But if he left it at that, then Steve would flush every time certain words came into conversation. He'd be embarrassed, and even ashamed of the things he'd said and done, and be at a disadvantage. And that was not cool.

What Steve needed was leverage, and Tony was the only one who could give it to him.

It was the least he could do.

"Ok," Tony said. "First, there's something you should know."

"You're sorry."

"Well, no. I mean, yeah, I'm sorry –I already said that- but this is something else; something about me. Just shut up, will ya?" he added testily. Steve opened his mouth to reply, then shut it again. "Ok," Tony said again. "The thing is, I have a rule about not dating married people."

Steve looked on expectantly. When Tony didn't add anything, he said, "Really," the word dripping skepticism.

"Yeah," Tony said, pissed at the reaction. "I have morals, believe it or not. So. No married people."

"What does that have to do with -"

"That's one thing," Tony said, ignoring Steve. "The other is this: When I was a kid, there was a poster in my room."

"A poster?"

"It'll make sense, I promise. So, I had a poster, and -"

Steve scoffed. "What was it, a long-legged blonde?"

"Hey! What part of shut up didn't you get?" He waited until he was sure that Steve was not going to interrupt him. "Anyway, I was head-over-heels in love with the -" Steve scoffed noisily, which won him a glare from Tony. "What, you don't think I can fall in love?"

"I don't know," Steve replied. "Can you? All those women -"

"What women? I've been so busy with this Avengers business I haven't had any in months!"

"I can read, Tony; I've read all about you and the models, and the actresses!"

"Well, don't read if you don't like it!" Tony retorted. He was pissed, all of a sudden. "Oh, I know what you think of me, Mr. 1940s. You think I'm a cad, a rotter." He'd been called worse than that actually, but he used the kind of words that Steve would have used. "Well, you don't have to worry, Captain; being associated with me isn't gonna sully you or shoot down your chances to go to Heaven."

Steve looked stricken.

"I... I never said -"

"Anyway," Tony cut in, "As I was saying, I fell in love. Hard."

Steve stared at him, looking as if he was trying to picture Tony Stark in love and failing.

"Wait. How old were you?"

"I was –I don't know- twelve...? Thirteen?"

Steve raised both eyebrows. "Twelve?" He paused. "When _I_ was twelve I was -"

"...Not in love," Tony cut in. "I get it, Steve; you were too young to have impure thoughts, blah, blah. Well, I was, shall we say, precocious." He smiled a little as he remembered the things that kid do to that poster on the wall.

Steve cut into his thoughts. "Did you get to meet her?" Tentatively, "It must have been easy, being Howard Stark's son."

Tony smiled. "Nah, even Howard couldn't make it happen. But I had no expectations, Steve. You see, I knew it was just a fantasy; I knew real people weren't as perfect as that. And it's not like I knew I was in love, anyway. I mean, I was a kid –how was I to know?" Steve frowned as if he were actually considering the question. "But it was love, all right," Tony said. "Or the closest thing to love I ever felt. Which is kind of pathetic, if you think about it."

"It's not pathetic," Steve said quickly.

"Please. Falling in love with a poster –what would you call that?"

"You're too hard on yourself. You were a kid."

Tony smiled. He had Steve's sympathy now. Great. Things were going well –better than he had hoped for, actually.

He'd better watch it though; he didn't want Steve's sympathy to turn to pity.

"Hey, relax," Tony said cheerfully; "The rest of the story isn't as bad. Or as creepy," he added on second thought. "In fact, it's probably going to make you laugh."

Steve hesitated. "Tony…You don't have to do this. I don't even know what this is, but -"

"It's leverage, Steve. You'll see when I'm finished. Ok? Ok. So, here comes the fun part of the story: One day, against all expectations, I got to meet the person in the poster."

Steve raised an eyebrow.

"But you said -"

"I know what I said. I was a kid, Steve; how was I to know it'd be possible more than 25 years later?"

"But you were…" he frowned. "And she must be…"

"Old?" Tony said helpfully, since Steve couldn't bring himself to say it.

Steve gulped. "And did you...? You and…" Poor Steve was obviously trying to picture Tony with some old broad. Or trying not to.

"Steve, you're not listening. I said I didn't believe I had a chance, remember? I knew it back then and I knew it now. No way. And it had nothing to do with age," he added firmly. "I just wasn't in love anymore. Still, it was fun, getting to meet this person. I got a good laugh, just wondering what people would say if they knew what I'd dreamed of, back when I was a kid."

"You didn't talk to her, then?"

"Talk about what? About a pathetic twelve-year old who fell in love with a poster? No way. Besides, it was a fantasy, remember? A dream. People aren't as good or as perfect." He took a deep breath now. Here it comes, he thought. Step four -or was it three? Oh, what the hell.

Tony studiously looked away and focused on a spot on the wall, a few inches above Steve's right ear. "But the joke was on me."

"How come?"

"It turns out he's just as good as I thought," he said quietly; "Better." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Steve look up sharply. He kept his gaze away. "Anyway, I fell in love. For real. And I can't do anything about it. Which is ok. I mean, I can live with it. Or I would, if he kept his damn distance. But for some reason he keeps following me around like a sick puppy, butting in at all times and asking cute questions about my school days!" There was a sharp intake of breath from Steve, but Tony ignored it. "So, I came up with a plan. I thought maybe if he got a girlfriend, then he wouldn't hang around anymore. And if he wasn't around, then maybe I'd finally get some work done."

There was another gasp from Steve, and Tony hoped he wasn't choking or something, because he wasn't going to look until he was finished.

"And I know all I had to do was ask him to stop coming to the workshop, but I couldn't do that. Didn't want to piss him off." _Or hurt him_. "And now it turns out he's pissed off anyway because he prefers men not girls, and how was I supposed to know that?" He looked at Steve. "You never said anything. Never gave me any indication that you fucking cared about men!"

Steve stared back, speechless.

"Anyway," Tony said, "That's it." Then he shivered. "Whoa. This is weird; I feel like I'm butt-naked, for some reason." He reluctantly looked at Steve. "So, Steve. What do you think of my story?"

"I…" Steve was too stricken to respond.

"It sucked, I know," Tony nodded, as if Steve had actually spoken. "But what can I say? I'm more eloquent when I'm talking business." Then, because Steve still couldn't manage one word. "What, you still need me to spell it out for ya? All right. When I was a kid, I fell in love with a poster of Captain America –though to be fair, I got help from my dad, who wouldn't stop talking about him. Then, 25-years later, I fell in love with the man behind the cape so to speak. Behind the shield, I mean." He paused. "Oh, don't look at me like I'm speaking Chinese! It's really simple, Steve: You told me your secret and I told you mine. We're even now."

Steve gulped. "You are… Are you…?"

"Clairvoyant? No. There was no way I could have known you were gay."

"No. I don't mean me. Are you… gay?"

"I like men, yes."

"But… but all those women you've been with…"

"I like women," Tony said casually. "They're comforting. Men aren't comforting –not in my own experience. Or maybe I just expect too much from them. That's my problem, I guess. I mean, how could anyone measure up to a poster on the wall, right?" He felt sad, all of a sudden. Empty. Well, he already knew that was going to happen.

Steve was practically stammering. "Y-you should have s-said something. "Y-you should have -"

"Tell Mr. Straight-as-an-arrow?" Tony scoffed. "Tell Mr. Life-in-the-forties-was-so-much-better? Yeah, right."

"I'm not Mr. Straight," Steve retorted.

"Yes, well, like I said, I'm not a clairvoyant. You never did anything, never said anything -"

"Who was I supposed to tell? You? You've been mocking me from day one!"

"Yeah. Sorry about that," Tony said, showing no remorse at all. "I did it to keep my distance, Steve. And you're so uptight, it gets too easy sometimes."

All along, they'd been glancing at each other, then purposefully averting their eyes whenever their gazes met. But in the silence that followed, they both looked up and their gazes held.

It was like looking at each other for the first time.

"Is that why you got upset?" Steve said tentatively, "When I said I wanted a boyfriend?"

"Yeah, sorry about that," Tony said, a tad uncomfortably; "The thing is, I wouldn't mind, seeing you with a woman. But you and a guy… A guy who is not me… That's just too fucking hard to deal with." His guts hurt, just thinking about it. Then he remembered the original purpose of this talk. "But I can do it. I meant it, when I said I wanted to help you find someone, Steve. If it's a guy you want, then I'll get you one. Well, not me; JARVIS. You'll have to give him some data; you know, your preferences on eye-color, hair-color, nationality..." He studied Steve. "I'm guessing… a British type of guy?"

Steve opened his mouth but Tony went on. "Or maybe not. But he's gotta be tall, right? Taller than you, of course. And ripped. Maybe it's Thor you should talk to," he added humorously; "He's bound to know someone." The humor was forced but he kept talking, because Steve was trying to say something, and Tony didn't want to hear it, whatever it was. "Anyway, it's JARVIS you gotta talk to. Or Pepper. She's gonna be thrilled. She gave up on me a long time ago, but with you, I bet she's gonna -"

Steve finally cut in. "I love you."

"Oh, don't do that," Tony said irritably; "Don't fucking do that. I don't need it, first of all. And secondly –"

"Stark," Steve cut in again. "I do."

And Steve looked so earnest, Tony felt a sudden tenderness for him. "Aw, Steve, that's sweet. But you don't have to. I'm an adult, I can deal with this. Give me a couple of hours. Or a day or two. I'll be ok." He hoped he looked like he was ok –or as ok as anyone with a hole in his guts could be. "Look: the only reason I told you is because I don't want you to be embarrassed around me. Understood? Like I said, we're even. Now we can be friends again. Right?" He frowned. "Unless you don't think we're even yet. Is that it? 'Cause if it is, I've got lots of things to confess, but I don't think you wanna hear those. But if you do -"

Steve was smiling now, the indulgent smile that graced his face whenever Tony did or said something amusing or infuriating.

"Stark," he cut in, "Didn't you ever wonder why I wanted to spend so much time in that hell-hole upstairs?"

"It's not a hell-hole!" Tony said indignantly, "It's a work -" He stopped abruptly. "I didn't wonder." He stared at Steve, who in turn gave him a look of disbelief. Why did Steve spend so much time in the workshop, when he could have just as easily spent his days in more comfortable quarters?

Tony gulped. "No way," he whispered.

"Why not?"

"That's not the way life works! No way!" But even as he spoke, he was reviewing these past months and looking at events under a new light. He was starting to wonder if maybe, just maybe, life did work that way now and then. And then there was the way Steve was looking at him right now –like Tony was the most lovable, infuriating man he'd ever met. Which was exactly the way he'd been looking at Tony these past months, come to think of it.

Suddenly, he was flushing, which only happened when he was feeling angry –or really foolish.

"No way," he said breathlessly. "It's never as perfect as this. No way."

Steve shook his head in disbelief. "You don't blink an eye when we get attacked by a man with ten wrings welded to his spine, but you can't believe I'm in love with you?"

"People don't talk like that," Tony protested. "They don't say they're in love just like that!"

"You just did," Steve retorted.

Tony opened his mouth, then shut it.

Steve smiled. "You said it Tony."

Tony didn't reply. He was too busy thinking of all those times they were alone in the workshop, with Tony studiously avoiding looking at Steve, while Steve was… what, checking him out? "So, all along, you were -" he waved a hand in the air.

"Reading," Steve finished for him.

"Reading? That's it? You've been alone with me and that's all you've been doing?"

Steve shrugged.

"I did learn a lot from your books."

"Yeah, but... wasn't there something else you wanted to do? With me, I mean."

Steve smiled. "Well, there was something..."

Tony held his breath in anticipation. He felt his heart do a tumble as Steve walked up to him. Was Steve going to kiss him? Hell, yeah, he was. Shit, shit. He never dreamed a fucking poster would kiss him -

He didn't.

Instead, Steve reached out and touched the back of Tony's neck.

"There's a little curl of hair here. It looks kind of cute." And after a brief hesitation, he tugged at it.

Tony frowned. What the hell was wrong with this guy? Touch one's hair, what the hell was that? Still, it felt kind of nice, and he felt a pang of regret when Steve dropped his hand and took a step back. Shit, he should have grabbed Steve and kissed him – why the hell didn't he do that?

He looked up. Steve was smiling. A new smile.

Tony found himself smiling back. And all along, he was thinking how crazy this was, that he was standing this close to Steve Rogers, yet he couldn't bring himself to lay one finger on him.

If this was someone else, he'd be on his back right now, half-naked, while Tony-fucking-Stark had his way with him. Part of him wanted to do just that –rip Steve's clothes off, pine him down among the boxes… _Oh, fucking yeah_!

But there was a bigger part of him that wanted to hold back and wait. Take things low. Be a nineteen-forties man for a change.

Get a bed at the very least.

Mainly, he needed time to get used to the idea that, contrary to what he'd been telling himself for years, he could have Steve Rogers after all. He didn't know how long that would take; he just knew waiting would be fun too. Thrilling. After all, if a little hair-tug and a smile could set his heart a-tumbling like this, imagine what a kiss would do...

He smiled.

"I guess you should go back to the party now," he said quietly.

Steve seemed surprised.

"You want me to go?"

"Yes. It's your party. You have guests to go back to." Gruffly, he added, "You're a gentleman, remember?"

Steve smiled. He seemed pleased.

"All right. I'll see you in your hell-hole later then."

"It's a date," Tony said, nodding. He followed Steve with his eyes until he disappeared from view.

"I'm ok with this," Tony said, his eyes still on the door. "Yeah. I don't mind that he's going back to those girls -"

JARVIS interrupted him. "Mr. Stark, I've located the silver buckle. Do you wish me to bid for it?"

Tony blinked.

"Silver buckle? What silver buckle? JARVIS, we've got work to do. The Mark IX upgrade, remember?"

"You sound like yourself again, sir."

"I do? Huh. Well, good." He didn't feel like himself, actually, but he wasn't going to admit it.

* * *

tbc


	4. Chapter 4

PART 4

Sorry for the delay.

* * *

To Tony's surprise, Steve came back barely an hour later.

Tony removed his goggles.

"Hey," he said. "You're early." He openly ogled Steve, noting, (with a bit of regret) that he'd changed back into his usual khakis and plaid shirt. _Damn it, he could have at least kept the shirt on, _he thought, sure that it had hugged Steve's body in all the right places. _On the other hand, if you're gonna tear off someone's shirt, it'd better be a god-awful Arrow and not an Antonio Bellini._

Not that he was actually going to tear Steve's clothes. He had a feeling that restraint would play better, which is why instead of walking up to Steve and pulling him for a kiss, he stayed behind his workbench and merely smiled.

"Party's over?"

Steve smiled back. "Not yet."

"What about the girls?"

"I told them I had an urgent meeting."

Tony's eyes widened. "You lied to them?"

"Actually, no." And Steve eyed him pointedly.

Tony's heart started to pound faster, but outwardly he played it cool.

"I'm flattered," he said calmly. He put his goggles on the workbench and picked a rag instead. He leisurely wiped his hands as he walked up to Steve.

"So. What happened to your suit? Did the girls tear it off for a souvenir?"

Steve looked sheepish. "I'm not used to wearing expensive stuff, Tony."

"Well, that's all right," Tony said; _I'll teach you,_ he thought, envisioning the shopping sprees to come. "I like that shirt better, anyway." No, he didn't. But Steve liked it, and that was all there was to it. _Love is turning a blind eye to your intended's atrocious style._

Steve seemed pleased by Tony's response. He glanced at the workbench.

"Are you busy?"

"Nah. I was just cleaning some pieces." By now, he was just a couple of feet away from Steve. Huskily, he added, "As of now, I'm all yours." And, since he was a gentleman, "What would you like to do?" Which was a perfectly good opening, in his own humble opinion; he was giving Steve a chance to do things his way –and hopefully, his way included getting rid of that fucking shirt. And those pants too, of course. And the briefs -or was it boxers, that Steve wore?

But Steve didn't say anything. He smiled, (a panicky smile, or so it seemed to Tony) and then he glanced at the couch.

Tony looked at it, then at Steve.

"D'you want to…? Here?"

And Steve had nodded solemnly. Keeping his eyes on Tony, he'd walked to the couch, and then he sat on it, right on his favorite spot.

_All right,_ Tony thought, throwing the rag over his shoulder. _Couch is good enough for me._ In fact, he'd designed for this sort of situation in mind, back when the Avengers first got together, when it was Thor he was interested in –when Steve was nothing but a pompous prig to him.

Who would have thought Steve would end up here?

With heart pumping wildly and fingers twitching in anticipation, Tony advanced to the couch… only to see Steve reach for a book from the pile on the coffee table; a huge encyclopedia book that he laid on his lap.

Tony stared at the book. Oh, he remembered that one. "The finest compilation of science and history…" blah, blah. As it turned out, the book was filled with inaccuracies and downright lies, and if he kept it was only because his mom had bought it for him.

"You're not gonna read right now, are you?"

Steve smiled good-naturedly.

"Want to join me?"

"Thanks, but I already read that one." Steve didn't take the hint; he simply smiled and looked expectantly at Tony.

Stalling, Tony nodded at the book. "You know, that book's the reason I built Dum-E. I thought robots should do the heavy lifting, not kids."

"It's a good book."

"Sure it is -if you're in 1980 and got super strength."

"It's very informative."

"As a period piece," Tony retorted. "For your information, most of the facts in that book have been disproved by now; even the science bits. That's why you should read modern texts instead."

"If I do that, I'll never know why they were wrong in the first place," Steve said reasonably; "And I won't understand how they got to the truth. It's history, Tony. Besides," he smiled, "There's a whole section on celebrities. I've been reading a lot about you."

"Whatever it is, it's not true."

Steve scoffed good-naturedly.

"I'm serious," Tony said. "Besides, I was what, eight? There can't be anything interesting about me in there."

"Actually, there is. It seems you interrupted your dad during an important conference while in Washington."

"Oh, yeah," Tony said, suddenly remembering. "I fooled the guys in black, all right." He smiled at the memory. "Boy, was Howard pissed…!"

Steve frowned.

"Did you call him by his first name?"

"Not to his face," Tony said casually. He meant it as a joke but Steve wasn't smiling. He even put the book down.

"What kind of father was he?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"Well, was he a good father, or -"

"Good when compared to whom? Steve, come on; you can't expect me to answer that kind of question. I mean, you knew what kind of man he was; hell, you probably knew him better than I did. Speaking of which," he added, quick to change the subject, "Was that true? Did you steal his girlfriend?"

Steve faltered. "I… I didn't." Reluctantly, he added, "She wasn't his girlfriend in the first place. She was just a friend. Mine, too. My friend, I mean."

Tony looked at Steve with interest.

"You're flustered, Steve. That tells me she was more than a friend to you." He studied Steve for a moment. "She was… interested in you, wasn't she? And you liked her. A lot." He paused. "You thought maybe you two could hit it off."

To his credit, Steve didn't put up a denial. He held Tony's gaze for a moment, then dropped it. He was silent –thinking of her, obviously. Mourning her?

"She must have been something," Tony said noncommittally. Whether Steve loved her or not was none of his business. Or so he told himself. He wasn't going to ask Steve, anyway.

But Steve was too honest; he didn't even try to sugar-coat his feelings for this woman.

"I thought she would cure me," he said bluntly. He looked up, and in his eyes there was something like a plea. A plea for understanding?

Or was it absolution? If it was, then things couldn't be more ironic because Tony Stark had long ago decided not to judge people on their personal choices; having the power of life and death as Iron Man was enough, thank you very much. Besides, you had to care in the first place, and he didn't care… much.

But he did care about Steve. And so, he playfully poked at Steve's foot with his own.

"Don't feel guilty, Steve. I'm sure you would have been a good husband to her." Better than Howard would have been, anyway.

And now there was that look in Steve's eyes again, like he couldn't quite believe what Tony was saying. It was fucking annoying, but Tony didn't dwell on it. He knew he had a long way to go before he could truly earn Steve's trust.

"Anyway," he said in a lighter tone, "If you really wanna read that book, then that's fine by me." Reading had to be safer than talking, that's for sure.

He stepped closer to the couch and glanced around. "So, where do you want me to –Ok," he added as Steve nodded at the empty space on his left. Feeling a little self-conscious, (which was ludicrous, considering it was his fucking couch, his fucking workshop, and his fucking home!) Tony took a seat next to Steve. His first impulse was to kick off his shoes and sit back but didn't, (even though, again, it was his damn couch and he could do whatever he wanted -except that Steve would probably not approve).

Idly, he glanced at Steve's book. "So. Do you want me to turn the pages for you, or -Oh." To his surprise, Steve had put an arm around his shoulder. _Nice_, he thought, pleased. Kind of awkward too, because Steve didn't exactly pull him closer; hell, Tony could easily measure the space between them in inches. But hey, it was progress.

_Now, if Steve would only close that book and put it back on the table…_

Five minutes later, Tony was still waiting.

Ten minutes in, Tony had started to curse himself for not taking matters into his own hands the minute he came into the workshop. And by matters, he meant Steve. _You should have grabbed him and pushed him up against the wall and kissed the hell out of him! _

Instead, he'd let Steve con him into Captain America's version of necking. Worse, Steve hadn't even said anything; hell, he hadn't even looked up from that book.

_Today's the day Iron Man turned into Captain America's own Teddy Bear,_ Tony thought morosely.

He looked at Steve. With nothing else to do, he looked for flaws. Sure, the guy was handsome, but there had to be something he could pick on. A hairy mole, for instance; a cauliflower ear. But Steve's moles, though numerous, weren't hairy. And his ears were kinda cute. As for the rest… Well, the man was perfect. No wrinkles, Tony noted self-consciously; but no laugh lines either_. I'm gonna have to do something about that. This guy needs to have some fun. _

Speaking of fun…

"Hey, Steve? Did you ever have a boyfriend?" Not the stuff of laughs maybe, but the issue had to be addressed some time.

Steve looked up from the book. He looked surprised.

"There was never a chance for that."

"Yeah, you said that. But there must have been someone. Some guy you liked even if there was nothing between you two. A classmate, for instance. Or a doctor. An army guy…?" He didn't know why he was pressing the issue; the last thing he needed to know was that Steve had had the hots for some burly sergeant. So, his heart sank a little when he saw Steve smile. "There was, huh."

Steve shook his head. "Not like this," he said quietly.

Tony gulped. Funny, how a few words can make you warm and tingly all over.

He should have been satisfied with that, but for some reason he wasn't. He just wanted to know more about Steve.

"Did you ever fantasize about this guy? I know you said you didn't dream of a house with white fences, but…" he let the word trail off.

"I had dreams," Steve admitted. "I wanted to be healthy; I wanted to… do something worthwhile." He glanced at Tony. "But that's not what you're asking, is it?"

Tony shook his head.

Steve looked away. He was lost in thought for a long while.

"There's a dream that I had," he said eventually. "Had for as long as I can remember, actually."

Tony could tell he didn't want to talk about it. "It's ok. You don't have to tell me."

"It's nothing, really. I.. I kept hoping that one day I'd meet a man who would touch me with no intent to harm."

Tony looked up sharply. Steve was still staring ahead, a grim expression on his face now. Thinking of childhood bullies, probably. School bullies... Hospital bullies… Army bullies…Even bullies from outer space.

_Jesus._ No wonder Steve looked exhausted sometimes. Weary.

He'd spent his entire life defending himself.

And it was then that Tony understood why they were sitting this way, with Steve holding him close, but not too close: He needed be in control… In case Tony turned out to be another bully.

The funny part was, Steve could hold his own now. He could easily make mincemeat of Tony if he had to. But he didn't want to. And so he kept Tony at a distance, putting off the moment of truth.

And what the hell was Tony supposed to respond to that? Saying "I'd never hurt you," was easy, but could he really keep that promise? Sure, he'd never use his armor against Steve, but once they were in a relationship, words would do enough damage.

Steve looked down after a moment, and blinked as if he'd just remembered the book on his lap.

Tony stared at him. "You really like that book, huh?" He did his best not to sound resentful.

Steve nodded. He reverently touched the smooth surface of a page as he spoke.

"When I was a boy, I didn't have any books. None of us did, really. We lived in a poor section of town."

Tony nodded solemnly. He'd read about the Depression; he'd seen dozens of pictures of grim-looking adults. There were pictures of kids, but those he couldn't bear to look at. One of them could have been Steve –small, sickly and lost in a crowd.

"The teachers had a few books," Steve went on, "But there were too many of us, so…" he let the word trail off.

"You didn't have access to any of them," Tony finished for him. "And now you're making up for lost time."

"In a way. These books are nowhere like the ones I knew back then." He smiled. "I remember this second-hand bookstore that I used to pass by on my way to school. I never went inside, but I could see the walls lined with all sorts of books –hundreds of them. There were piles on the floor too. They were dusty and probably moth-eaten but I didn't care; I'd stand on the sidewalk staring at them, wondering what it would be like to hold one…"

Tony scoffed softly.

"For a moment I thought you were gonna say you were wondering how to steal them."

Steve grinned.

"I would have," he said sheepishly. "But I knew I could never get away with it. I wasn't strong enough to run, and -"

"And it was the wrong thing to do," Tony said. "You just wouldn't do it."

Steve's smile faded. He didn't immediately speak, even though he obviously wanted to; he seemed to be struggling with some inner thought -something he couldn't easily verbalize.

Finally, "I'm not a poster, Tony."

"I know," Tony said casually; "You're way warmer."

Steve pressed his lips together. He was obviously annoyed by Tony's off-handed remark. "What I'm trying to say is, I'm not perfect. I'm a man; I'm bound to make mistakes."

"Yeah, but you'd still be cute." Tony saw Steve clench his jaw –a sign that he was pissed. "Not that being cute is that important," he added quickly. "I mean, it is, but only because it's part of who you are."

"But you don't know who I am. To you I'm Captain America –the one in the poster."

"That's because you still look like him," Tony said flippantly. But Steve was shaking his head in disapproval. "What?" Tony frowned. He didn't understand what the problem was and said so. But Steve refused to even discuss the issue. He stared at Tony for a couple of seconds, and then he looked back at the book.

Tony stared at him in disbelief.

"What, you're not gonna tell me what's bugging you?"

"Nothing's _bugging_ me."

Tony rolled his eyes.

"You don't even know what bugging mean, do you." He smiled to himself when he saw Steve wince uncomfortably. The poor guy probably thought it had something to do with buggery –something he clearly wasn't ready for.

_Well, not yet_, Tony thought, supremely confident. But it looked like there were other problems they'd have to address before.

_Oh, boy._ He never thought he'd be the one uttering these words; but what the hell –someone had to. "Ok, Steve. We gotta talk." He reached for the book, but Steve held on to it. "Come on, Rogers; no more reading till you tell me what's going on -"

Suddenly, Steve let go of the book, and taken by surprise, Tony dropped it.

"Oh, crap," Steve muttered.

"Wow, Steve Rogers said crap," Tony said snidely. "Stop the presses." He picked the book before Steve reached it, and some papers that had been tucked inside fell out. "Fuck."

Steve gathered the papers. There were newspaper cuttings and something white and stiff that Steve put right on top as he straightened up: a card.

Tony did a double take. The card was white with yellowing edges, and it was covered by some lines written in blue, the elegant scrawl marred by splotches where ink had run.

He recognized that scrawl. He remembered the words too. Decades had passed, but he still remembered.

_Darling Tony, Happy Birthday! How I wish I were there with you… Your Father sends you his love -_

He remembered, all right. He also remembered the disappointment he felt as he read. His mother had promised, over and over, that she'd come home for his birthday. She wasn't there for the school pageant and she couldn't make it for any of the parents meetings; surely she wouldn't miss the party –it had been her idea in the first place!

Well, she couldn't make it. She did send a check, though. She always did.

_And you cashed those checks, didn't you_. Hell, yeah. Money was the one constant in his life –why shouldn't he take it? His parents were loaded; it wasn't like they were making a huge sacrifice –they weren't starving. So, yeah, he cashed the check and bought himself –something, he couldn't remember what. A book, maybe.

Oh, sure, he'd cried a bit when he read the card –shit, you could still see the evidence of his tears on it- but that was the last time. Well, until his parents died, of course. But those were dutiful tears; in his heart, it felt like he'd lost his parents a long time ago.

Tony glanced back at the card and noticed Steve was touching a crinkly spot. Did Steve know, he wondered, what that spot was? Was he speculating as to what might have caused it…?

Suddenly, it occurred to Tony that Steve had probably found that card a long time ago. It was tucked inside along with other papers; surely he'd noticed the bulk. He'd found the card and read it; did he build Tony's entire life story from it too?

Tony felt the heat rise to the tops of his ears. _Shit. Shit._

He stood up. He forced himself to speak calmly.

"You'd already read that, didn't you."

Steve studiously kept his gaze on the card.

Tony nodded to himself. _Yep. He read it._

_Son of a bitch._

"You read that card and the articles that called me 'Poor Little Rich Boy, Orphan Tony Stark', and felt sorry for me." No response –which, in turn, said it all. "You thought I needed the company; is that it?" He spoke softly, but inside he felt anger rising; anger and indignation. When Steve didn't respond, Tony poked at his foot again, only not as playfully as before. "Is that why you're here?"

Steve didn't reply. What he did was put his hand on top of the card, as if to protect it. _You'll have to fight me for this card _- That's how Tony read the gesture. Well, he wasn't going to fight Steve. There was no point now.

And there was something else he wasn't going to do.

"I'm not gonna talk about that card, Steve." _I'm warning you._ "I'm not going back that far in time."

"You wouldn't have to go back," Steve said quietly. "You're still there."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Was Steve trying to imply Tony was like a little kid? "What, you think I have a problem?"

That was rich, coming from the guy with the big hang-up about sex! Steve was the one with the problems, not him_. I'm ok. Hell, I'm better than ok: I don't need anybody. _

And that last thought made him stop. I don't need anybody –Jesus, that's the kind of thing a little kid would say! Did that mean Steve was right, then? Was he stuck in the past?

Steve broke the silence.

"I don't think you have a problema," he said quietly. "And I'm here because I want to know you better."

"Yeah, well, you may not like it when you do."

Steve looked up. He didn't say anything, but the look in his eyes was as eloquent as a spoken word: Why?

And to Tony, that question led to others –_why are you doing this? Why are you trying to push Steve away?_'

Because that's what he was doing -it's what he always did, actually. It was like a reflex: He put himself down, he joked about how unworthy of love he was. People called it self-deprecation (and sometimes praised him for it), but there were a few –himself included- who saw it for what it was: An attempt to steer people away. Only the strong (and saintly, like Pepper) saw through him and stayed.

Did Steve see through him too?

'You still see a poster,' he'd said, or something like that. What it meant was that in Steve's eyes, Tony was still a kid in awe of Captain America.

So in awe, he still hadn't even kissed him.

_Oh, crap,_ Tony thought, as the realization struck. Oh, and those inches that had kept them apart on the couch? Those were Tony's fault, he realized now. He could have leant closer; he could have said fuck it, Steve, I wanna make out. But he didn't.

Steve had taken a chance and Tony refused to be drawn in.

Fuck. Talk about having a hang-up the size of a boulder.

He looked at Steve. Rogers was staring ahead, waiting. Patiently.

"I said I loved you," Tony blurted out. Steve nodded almost imperceptibly. "It's true, you know."

Steve looked up. He nodded almost imperceptibly. He believed it.

Awkwardly, Tony added, "And I still think you're perfect."

Steve sighed.

"Tony -"

"Hear me out," Tony said. "It's no big deal. I mean, that's what people in love do, don't they? They see something that nobody else does, and then they, I don't know –they treasure it. I mean, you could have a zit the size of a ping pong on your nose and I'd still think you're cute. You could screw the next mission and I'd still think you're the best. I'd support you, no matter what."

Steve visibly gulped.

"I'm not lying," Tony said quietly. "I really, really love you."

"I love you, too."

Tony nodded.

"Good." _Then why am I still standing here, looking down at you holding that stupid book?_

Fortunately for him, Steve made the next move. He sat back and put his feet on the coffee table.

Tony stared in disbelief. Steve had never done that. "Those shoes are gonna leave a dent on the table."

Steve peered at his feet.

"Really?"

"I don't mind," Tony said. "I just thought you should know. I don't want you to feel bad about it afterwards."

Steve nodded, admitting the possibility. "All right," he said good-naturedly, only instead of simply getting his feet off altogether, he kicked off his shoes and let them drop on the floor. Without a word, he put his feet back on the table.

Tony stared at Steve's feet then he looked up. Steve was looking at the book but there was a playful grin gracing his lips now.

_Oh, I get it_, Tony thought. _You're just fucking with me, aren't ya."_

"That was a sloppy thing to do," Tony said severely. But he was grinning too. "White socks, huh? Why am I not surprised?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Good guys always wear white."

"Actually, I'm wearing these because I got a dozen on sale."

Tony shook his head. Every Avenger had his own Stark Industries credit card; Steve Rogers should NOT be buying stuff on sale! But he did, and this only made him more lovable by the minute. But Tony didn't say so. He nodded at the book instead.

"So, this is what you want to do? Sit back and read all night?"

"I didn't read all day," Steve said reasonably. Then he tilted his head to a side, pointing at the empty space beside him.

Tony hesitated, then gave up. He'd have to do the loving thing if he wanted to be with Steve, and it'd better be now. He sat, and Steve immediately put his arm back on his shoulder. This time, Tony leant into his embrace.

"This is weird," he said after a moment. "But I like it."

"Good."

Tony tentatively laid his cheek on Steve's shoulder. _That_ wasn't comfortable -the man was hard as granite- but it's not like he could very well ask for a pillow. Besides, he'd laid his face on harder places and called himself lucky, like when he was in Afghanistan. Not that he wanted to think of that right now. Hopefully, he would not dream of that cave while in bed with Steve. _If I ever get in bed with Steve_, he thought, noting that Rogers was looking at the book again.

"Oh, you're kidding me," Tony said. "You're still gonna read that damn book?"

"Well… I haven't finished it yet."

Steve was smiling. Oh, the son of a bitch was enjoying himself! But Tony had to admit he was having a good time too.

On an impulse, he pressed his nose into Steve's shoulder. "You smell good," he mumbled.

"Mmmh." Noncommittally.

"I bet you taste good too." Steve's skin got hotter under the cotton –ah, ha! Rogers was flustered by Tony's words.

Tony smiled. _Maybe I should start that verbal love-making I'm so famous for_ –

Unfortunately, a yawn caught him unawares just then.

"Oh, fuck," he mumbled.

"What?"

"Nothing," Tony said. "It's just… so freaking tired –I haven't slept in weeks."

He was tired, and Steve was so fucking warm. It made him wanna wrap his arms around the guy and drift off. Without thinking, he slid his arm around Steve's waist. Steve immediately tensed up.

Neither of them moved for a few seconds… and then, Steve took a deep breath and relaxed.

Tony smiled to himself. _There, that wasn't so bad was it?_ We're practically cuddling now!

He closed his eyes. He was going to sleep… But of course, he needed to say something first.

"Steve." The word came out a bit distorted, with his cheek pressed flat on Steve's arm.

"Mmmh?"

"You know I'm not -" he hesitated. "I'm not like you."

"I know. You've got more money."

Tony looked up.

"I'm not talking about money. I'm talking about me being… me. All those women… and the men. It's true, you know."

Steve smiled.

"Ah, yes, I forgot. You're a cad and a rotter." He looked at Tony. "You're normally very proud of that fact."

"I'm not ashamed. I'm just saying that I'm not exactly an expert on relationships."

"Neither am I," Steve said reasonably.

"Oh, yeah. I forgot." _Jesus, things can only go downhill from here. _

But would they? Steve for one looked hopeful, and deep down Tony felt like he could make things work if he just gave this a chance.

Steve patted his shoulder.

"Go to sleep, Tony."

"Right. Sleep. We'll talk in the morning." He closed his eyes. A few moments later, he heard Steve speak. "Lights out, Mister, uh, JARVIS. Please." And as darkness enveloped them, Tony had another reason to smile. Steve had actually spoken to JARVIS.

Things are looking up.

* * *

THE END

I'll leave the sex scenes to the experts.


End file.
